


TJ centric Dribble-Drabbles

by winter_angst



Series: Dribble Drabbles [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Political Animals
Genre: Fluff, Grief/Mourning, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Sad Brock, high calorie angst, low calorie angst, the author is sorry, tj is a sweet muffin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-19
Packaged: 2020-10-18 19:37:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20644553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winter_angst/pseuds/winter_angst
Summary: A collection of drabbles. Each chapter will have its own lil summary.





	1. if I’m lying here (will you take me home)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kalika999 (kalika_999)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kalika_999/gifts), [Steve-Bucky-Stucky (Chemical30)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chemical30/gifts).

> Kali — please forgive me for gifting this to you! 
> 
> Title from Take Me Home by Jess Glynne
> 
> Summary - Brock is coping... Sometimes.

Brock cooks dinner and it lacks his usual passion. He uses boxed meals and the microwave. The beautiful stove sits nearly untouched, save for the occasional pot of water boiled for mac and cheese. He sets the table for three when he gets wrapped up in his own head, and then all at once realizes how vast and empty the dining room is as he slowly and laboriously puts away the cutlery, fingering the grooves hand carved in the drawer and then the plate when he can almost feel the warmth of Jack’s body as he leaned over his to screw the door on. 

He stands quietly by the double sink, looking at a lawn freshly mowed by the neighbor. He breathes deeply, a swirling sensation buzzing around his head as he feels the tentative grasp he has on his life start to slip. He drops his head forward, in defeat and in exhaustion and looks to the clock. It’s got birds on it and it’s horrible and ugly but Jack — 

Brock exhales, heavy and hitching toward the end. He swallows the thickening feeling in throat down and pulls open the fridge. The recycling bin is stacked hazardously with empty bottles but wine helps and these days any help is worth it. He pours himself a glass, swigging it down before it has to a chance to air. He doesn’t taste, he’s afraid to feel. He doesn’t want to remember sipping wine while looking out the window. Watching TJ and Jack tussle on the lawn or toss a baseball back and forth. 

Brock has another, and then another. 

He goes back to the two person setting and walks through a hallway with ghosts of his happiness hung up to mock him. Brock takes them down but then, in a moment of weakness, puts them back up. He decides he’ll take them down again when TJ’s bed. Pressure wells up in his chest and behind his eyes so he puts a pin in it for the sake of greeting TJ dry eyed. 

He’s stacking foam blocks. The special educator has said he’s taking it far better than expected. Sometimes Brock can’t look at him without seeing the two of them together. “Dinner time, buddy.”

“...’Kay,” TJ sets a red block on top of the blue, completing his careful pattern. Brock smiles for a moment, a swell of parental pride at their son’s sheer resilience and then he remembers that no, TJ is just his son now. 

The dry ache burns in his chest and he fights it with the fading strength left in his body through dinner, playtime, bath time and then through a story. TJ smiles his crooked smile and asks when Papa is coming home. Brock’s resolve snaps and he curls inward a bit, simply unprepared for the way the question absolutely guts him. The mural on the wall of elephants and giraffes blurs beyond recognition and Brock’s inhale is the gasp of a dying man. A small clammy hand rests on his arm, rubbing up and down the same way Jack did whenever TJ was upset.

Brock can’t do it. He can’t. But he doesn’t have a choice.

“I’m sorry,” Brock croaks because children should not see their parents crumble. He is supposed to be strong, he has to be. He rubs away his tears and plasters on a smile so fake it stings. “Papa is the clouds, remember the story? And in the grass and in the wind and in the stars and the moon and — ”

“In my smile,” TJ smiles sweetly when Brock can’t finish, doesn’t trust his voice not to break. “I remember.”

Brock’s own smile is wobbly as he tucks in TJ, smooths his dark locks from his blue gray eyes and kisses his forehead. “G’night Daddy,” TJ’s eyes drift closed and then he looks out the window. The moon is just a sliver. “Papa’s here tonight, Daddy, see?”

Brock looks at the teeny bit of light shining through the wispy curtains. He wants to believe it, but it’s too painful. It’s too soon. “I see, Teej. Good night.”

Brock falls apart when TJ can’t see him. He stands in the shower and he cries. The kind of wracking sobs that hurt. The kind of sobs that hurt so badly he thinks he dying but he knows he’s not and that just makes the pain all the more merciless. He falls to his knees, feels the cold tile while scalding water pellets his skin, burning a brilliant red to remind him that he is alive. Some days he wishes he wasn’t, that he was with Jack wherever he is now — in the clouds or the grass or the wind or the moon — but he has their son to care for. He’s the last piece of Jack that Brock has left and he will cherish him forever.

But as his nails scrabble against the slick flooring he thinks only of the emptiness and how much he hates that Jack left him. When they stood at the altar Jack promised forever. As they designed the house and put the little touches on it, Jack prepared them for forever. When the police came to his door and said there’d been an accident Jack took away forever.

Brock’s forehead rests on the floor, body shivering violently against far too much emotion. Tomorrow he will pick himself up, smile and thank those who offer condolences and assure everyone he is okay. But tonight, when no one can see him, he’s not okay. 

And honestly, he thinks he never will be okay again.


	2. anyone who knows what love is

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s not perfect, but it’s home. TJ has an eventful day and Brock gets to hear all about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to thank @Steve-Bucky-Stucky for this version of TJ who I adore and will be HEAVILY featured so I hope I do this sweet muffin justice. And also @Kali_999 for tolerating my endless hcs about him lol. 
> 
> This is much happier than the last one so I hope you enjoy! - Logan

The front door burst open as TJ hurried inside.

Brock turned away from the stove, an eyebrow raised in surprise at an uncharacteristic entrance. “Daddy!” TJ had a McDonalds bag clenched in his fist and Brock held back his sigh of annoyance.

Behind him the stew he’d been slaving away on all day simmered. “Hello, Teej — whatcha got there? I thought I told Papa not to spoil your appetite.”

“Lots of stuff happened while we was at the store,” TJ slipped out of his light up shoes and set them carefully where they belonged before offering his windbreaker for Brock who hung it on his rack. “Can I tell you ‘bout it?”

TJ loved to share stories of his outings and it was something that Brock loved about him. He found the extraordinary in the ordinary and somehow found something positive and delightful in even the most mundane of errands. “Of course you can, bud. But I gotta go help Papa with the groceries.”

“Can I help carry the milk?”

Brock smiled, ruffling his silky black locks. TJ tilted his head back and beamed, thrilled to death at the idea of just helping. When Brock and Jack had signed on to adopt a child with special needs they hadn’t been prepared for TJ — a boy so perfect and a beautiful and unique — and Brock had trouble accepting it was real. 

Jack was unloading an armful of bags from the trunk of his SUV, turning to give Brock a smile. “Hey — you told me this was easy.”

“It’s shopping,” Brock filled his own arms and Jack was able to nudge the hatch shut with his elbow. “How hard could it be?”

“Two percent milk? What the hall is the other 98 percent?”

“Watch your mouth,” Brock snickered as TJ danced ahead of them, both arms wrapped around the jug protectively. “Also, thanks for ruining dinner.”

“I can’t tell you that story — I promised TJ he could tell you.”

Brock pursed his lips and hummed thoughtfully. “Well I look forward to hearing it.”

The second Brock set down the groceries TJ asked if he could tell him about the trip yet. 

“Go ahead,” Brock granted eyeing the McDonalds bag with annoyance. 

Jack had slipped into the living room to avoid putting away the groceries. It was easier that way because Jack enjoyed pretending he had no idea where things went until Brock got annoyed and banished him elsewhere. 

“I’m all ears.”

“No you’re not daddy! You’ve got fingers and toes and hands and feets and arms and-and a head and only two ears.” TJ crossed his arms over his chest and looked warily at Brock. “Are you just being joking?”

Brock smiled and lightly tapped TJ’s nose, making him giggle. “Yes, Buddy. It’s just a saying. I’ve only got two ears.”

“Papa has two ears but only one works,” TJ said with a solemn nod.

TJ grasped onto some information quickly. The fact Jack was blind in one eye and deaf in one ear from an accident in the field back when he was in the army was one thing TJ latched onto. Of course he said it was the ‘Amy’ but the special educator knew what he meant. Brock had been a black ops marine before he met Jack and after his accident and honorable discharge, Brock had finished his tour and settled down for a quiet civilian life. 

Nowadays, Jack worked in the insurance world and Brock was a cop. 

At times he missed serving but what he had in front of him was just as important as the work he was doing before. “That’s right,” Brock stirred the stew slow roasting.

“We went past a field with the most prettiest cows in the whole world! And there were baby ones just like yesterday!”

They drove past the ‘prettiest cows in the whole world’ everyday but it never ceased to amaze him and Brock would never get tired of how happy he was to tell him about it. “And we went past the pond with the duckies and-and gooses.” 

Brock was familiar with the gaggle of geese that pecked at his tires and the flock of ducks who sat in the middle of the road. Still, he smiled because TJ’s energy was infectious. He recounted everything he saw — a blue house, a green car, an ice cream truck, the playground, Steve and Bucky’s house, a dog, an old lady with a blue umbrella, another dog, a car that looks like Brock’s (“Did ya go for a ride too? I sawed your car!”), a giant inflated pumpkin, and flowers. Lots and lots and lots of flowers.

“Then we went to the store,” TJ continued and he talked about every aisle, about the lady in the bakery who gave him a cookie and then, finally — “and I found a wallet like yours Daddy!”

“A wallet?”

“Uh-huh! Papa said to leave it but I, ummm, well I didn’t follow the directions and I opened it and it was full of moneys!”

“What?” Brock looked over TJ’s head to where Jack was reading an automotive magazine. “You found someone’s wallet?”

“No, TJ did. I thought it would have been empty but thanks to him — “

“Papa!” TJ cut in tearfully. “You said I could tell!”

Jack smiled apologetically, green eyes sparkling with amusement as he eyed Brock. “The wallet was full of moneys Daddy! So Papa brought me to the front desk an’ the lady said she’d find the person who lost it and she said his name on the big speaker and he came up and thanked Papa but Papa said no, it was me!”

Brock smiled and knelt down to give him a hug. “Wow! That was a very nice of you, Teej.”

“His name is Tony and he was so thankful he gave me a whole entire twenty dollar bill!”

Brock smiled, proud of his son’s actions and also pleased by the strangers generosity. “Well, we can go out that money in Mr. Piggy right?”

TJ looked upset suddenly. “I said you’d want me to do that but Papa said I could do whatever I wanted with my money. So I decided to buy nuggets!”

Brock shot Jack a look that was avoided with skill only Jack would have. “I told the lady at the window all about it and she told me to keep my money and she filled a whole bag with nuggets anyway! But-but you made dinner and I don’t want you to feel sad.”

“I’m not sad,” Brock assured him quickly. “You did a very nice thing today. We can have chicken nuggets for dinner if you’d like.”

“Yes!” TJ cheered. “And you don’t even have to cook them!”

Brock laughed and nodded his head. “So you still have the money the nice man gave you?”

“Mmhm. Can we put it in Mr. Piggy?”

“I think that’s a wonderful idea.”

It was little moments like this that made Brock appreciate what a special family he had. They weren’t perfect and sometimes they ate fast food for dinner, but they were all happy and that was what mattered.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed (is that right word for it?)


End file.
